


The Forbidden Garden ( And the Monster Within it )

by orsaverba



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: AU, Faeries - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Vague mentions of dead animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsaverba/pseuds/orsaverba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story went something like this; a long, long time ago where he now sat had been a barren valley that refused to flower or be tilled. Nothing would grow there, not rice, not wheat, not even weeds. It was all stringy grass and leafless bushes and the earth there was ugly and smelled of decay. Then, one day, people woke up and the valley was suddenly overgrown with trees and flowers of all kinds, some of which they had never seen before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forbidden Garden ( And the Monster Within it )

Judal sunk his teeth into the flesh of his fifth peach, resting his elbow on his raised knee and staring off at the horizon. The air smelled fresh and sweet with the beginning of summer and peach juice dripped a sticky trail down his chin. He swiped it away with a practiced tongue before taking another bite.

 

Peach pits were scattered around him and his lap was laden with at least ten more of the succulent fruits. They were all perfectly ripe and begging to be eaten, easily plucked from the boughs of the tree he was leaned against. It was said that forbidden fruit was the sweetest kind and, thus far, Judal found that he had to agree. Every peach he’d eaten had been nary but perfection, though he’d still taken it upon himself to test each one to be sure.

 

It was the first time in memory he’d simply sat down and eaten as much as he wanted without concern for being disturbed. Here at least was the one place in the world he might escape the accusatory stares of villagers and their nasty words whispered behind calloused hands. Not even whispered, really, it wasn’t as though they cared if he heard. No one would follow him out here, which had been half the point.

 

The story went something like this; a long, long time ago where he now sat had been a barren valley that refused to flower or be tilled. Nothing would grow there, not rice, not wheat, not even weeds. It was all stringy grass and leafless bushes and the earth there was ugly and smelled of decay. Then, one day, people woke up and the valley was suddenly overgrown with trees and flowers of all kinds, some of which they had never seen before.

 

People were awed and took it as an act of some distant god blessing their lands, and as humans are want to do, they ventured out into the new growth like it was theirs to pick through. They found fruit trees and hanging vines ripe with vegetables, lovely flowers and sturdy wood that could weather any storm. Of course, thinking this was theirs to take from without so much as a please or thank you, people collected the fruits and the wood and the vegetables and made to leave with them.

 

But no one ever returned. If they ventured into the long shadows of the hanging trees intent to take from the land, they disappeared without a trace. If they walked amongst the flower bushes simply to admire, they may come back, but only maybe. When they did it was as if they’d been wandering for decades not for hours, and they were never quite the same. Some came back rambling about a creature amidst the leaves, beautiful and terrible, a monster that would eat them whole.

 

So the trees and their fruit had become forbidden. If there had ever been a path between the gnarled roots it was long since gone, and the flowers and leaves laid undisturbed, watched with a fearful eye. This story had been passed down from mouth to mouth, mother to son and father to daughter, so that every man, woman and child in the villages near to the cursed garden knew of it. It was a place of beauty and of mystery, but surely of death as well.

 

Judal lightly tossed the pit of his fifth peach, watching as it landed not far away where he could still see it amidst the grass. He picked up a sixth and bit into it, savoring the warm juice that flowed into his mouth.

 

The story was right about one thing at least; the garden was beautiful. In fact, it was so sprawling and wondrous that it was a little difficult to call it a _garden_ at all. It almost reminded Judal of the orchards near his village, except it was nothing like that at all. The orchards were neat rows of trees in carefully placed lines, the ground around them kept clear of shrubbery so that farmers could easily walk amongst the rows. There was no such care for ease here.

 

The trees grew wherever they pleased, twining branches and knotting roots, reaching high in some places and low in others. Their leaves built canopies overhead and while some hung with plentiful fruit, others were covered in gorgeous blossoms the likes of which he couldn’t name. On the ground was cool grass that faded in places into soft moss that squished beneath his bare feet. He’d abandoned his shoes not even five feet into the garden, the urge to run like a limitless child almost overwhelming.

 

Oh it was all so beautiful to look at. Birds fluttered and sang, their wings almost glistening in the sunlight, and butterflies danced around the bushes in lazy patterns of warm colored wings. He’d passed through at least two different conglomerations of bees, all of which had simply brushed past him or landed on him briefly without a single sting. This place was peace, and serenity, and nature at its kindest. It was everything Judal had hoped for.

 

Back in the village, he had never gotten to eat so many peaches ( so much of anything, really ) and halfway through the seventh Judal realized he was growing quite full. He finished the peach in his hand, because he knew better than to ever let food be wasted, and then gently set aside the fruit in his lap. Then he collected the peach pits he’d scattered about, and settled on his knees to dig his fingers into the soft earth.

 

He had just patted the ground back into place around the fifth pit when there came a hum from behind him, accompanied by the whisper of moving silk.

 

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” asked a voice that sounded clear as a fresh stream, and just as melodic.

 

Judal looked up, and there between the trees stood a creature both beautiful and terrible. He blinked at him, long lashes dusting his mismatched cheeks, and waited for the village boy to answer.

 

“Well this is a garden, isn’t it?” Judal answered, resting his hands on his thighs. “I figure, if I bury the pits, new trees will probably grow. That seemed like the right thing to do.”

 

“And what about taking fruit without asking permission of its owner first?” the creature asked, raising a slender brow. “Was that also the right thing to do?”

 

Judal rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

 

“They were ripe, if they got left there they’d definitely just rot. You have an entire garden, so a few peaches less won’t be too much trouble, right?”

 

“Ah, but it is my garden, and they are my peaches.”

 

“Well I can’t exactly give them back,” Judal pointed out. “What’s eaten is eaten and what’s picked is picked.”

 

“This is true,” the creature agreed. “So now we have a dilemma, for you have taken things that don’t belong to you without permission, and I was their owner.”

 

“Is there some way I can pay you back for them?”

 

“I care nothing for mortal coin or precious things, to me this garden is worth a thousand of your kingdoms and more.”

 

“Then what _could_ I pay you with?”

 

The creature paused, and Judal got the sense that no one had ever actually asked this of him. He didn’t bother to mention that he didn’t have any money, even if the creature had wanted it, so favors were all he could offer. He sat there on his knee while grass stained his legs and waited patiently for an answer.

 

Finally, the creature hummed again.

 

“Finish burying the pits,” he told him. “Make sure they are at least two inches below the soil. When you are done, follow me.”

 

Judal obeyed, firstly because it had been his intention to all along, and secondly because what else was he meant to do? He finished burying the last two pits, patting the earth back into place and smiling at his work. Then he dusted off his clothes and got up, looking first to the creature, then the small pile of plucked peaches beneath the tree he’d been sitting under.

 

The creature followed his gaze and blinked steadily, then turned away.

 

“Collect the peaches you’ve picked,” he instructed. “They are already plucked so you may as well have them.”

 

Judal was quick to collect his bounty. He sat on his toes and loaded them up into his lap, fisting his hands in his _changshan_ so when he stood he kept a makeshift cloth basket to carry his peaches. He moved hastily, as the creature went dipping in between the trees and disappearing into the shadows almost as quickly as he could blink.

 

As fast as he could he hurried after him, bare feet making not a sound as he trod through the grass after the back of the garden’s mysterious owner. Deeper and deeper into the trees they delved, past little brooks and blossoms that began to vary in color so widely he could hardly keep track. Judal only glanced to the side once to look at a passing bush covered in berries fit to burst, and never dared do so again, for he’d almost lost sight of the creature he was following.

 

He got the sense that in its own way, this walk was a test and the beautiful creature expected him to fail. They took no mapped pathed through the foliage, though the creature seemed to know just where they were going, and at times it felt as though they doubled back on themselves. More than once Judal stepped on a root or tripped over a rock that wasn’t there the next moment, but he always righted himself quickly and made sure not a single peach dropped to the ground.

 

They might have walked minutes or hours, he wasn’t sure, but he never complained or asked where they were going; only followed, and this seemed to please the creature.

 

It crossed Judal’s mind more than once that he might be being led to his death. Of course he had known when he walked into the garden he may never walk out again. His belly was full of sweet peaches and cool spring water, the grass was soft under his feet, and the air smelled fresh. He felt content enough that if he died as payment for the stolen fruit, it didn’t seem too terrible a way to go. Better than the alternative waiting for him back in the village.

 

The trees never thinned, but suddenly the air was open above them and the creature had stopped walking, leading Judal to halt at his heels. In front of him was a wide clearing, big enough to fit at least half his village in, and at the center of it was a grand manor. It was painted in whites and soft blues, gentle jade framing the windows and doors, and though it stood tall the roof was still lower than the treetops.

 

Judal stared up at it in wonder, as this was his first time seeing such a large and impressive building. The creature allowed him his moment of awe, watching him with his glittering eyes.

 

“From now on,” he said, once Judal’s focus had returned. “This will be your home.”

 

Judal nodded his understanding, once more trailing along on the creature’s heels. He wondered if the creature knew that this was the first time in his life he would even _have_ a home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the stories the villagers liked to tell, the creature in the garden was a beautiful beast, terrible and alluring and frightening to its core. He was all of these things, truthfully, Judal had decided as much after watching him the entire walk back to his home. ( And if the creature minded his staring, he never said, so Judal continued to. )

 

He was neither particularly tall nor particularly short, but he carried himself with the grace of a dancer and the confidence of a king. Dark hair spilled down his back in a silken wave, a bun knotted neatly at the back of his head keeping most of it from falling around his face. The skin of his hands and face was pale as moonlight and just as enchanting, and his mouth was the color of a young maiden’s blush.

 

There was a scar, also. It carved across his face in harsh twisting patterns, and it had turned one of his sapphire eyes the color of ice over a frozen lake. Judal thought that it just made him prettier, that sharp contrast that marred his perfect skin, and the mole beneath his lips was terribly charming. It was very easy to see how simpleminded villagers might be bewitched by a face like his and the soft expressions that fluttered over it.

 

And the creature had a name, and that name was Hakuryuu.

 

Hakuryuu had told Judal his name and magic had shivered through the air around him like the first breath of winter. Judal wasn’t stupid, of course he’d known that something like him was magic, you could feel it just by looking at him. But the feeling of the raw power his name carried was something he hadn’t expected, it was humbling and frightening all at once.

 

Judal loved it. Loved the sound of his name and the power it carried, and he loved that he had permission to use that name as much as he liked.

 

Hakuryuu had lived by himself in his garden for a very, very long time, much longer than Judal had been alive and probably much longer than his entire bloodline before him. He enjoyed his solitary manor surrounded by well-kept wilderness, and one almost expected him to have no idea what to do with a houseguest.

 

To Judal’s surprise there was a room waiting for him in the manor as if he’d been a guest that Hakuryuu had been expecting for some time. It was neat and only lightly furnished, but there were books tucked into a bookshelf he was free to read and paintings done in inks and watercolors decorating the walls. There was a bed and a desk and cushions lining a bench beneath one of the two windows he could sit at and look out over the garden.

 

There was a tour of the manor, after he was shown his room, and Hakuryuu told him that he would be doing chores for him to repay his debt. So long as he did as he was told and completed the tasks assigned to him without complaint, he could do whatever he liked once he was done. He could cook whatever he wanted in the kitchens and look through any of the rooms he felt inclined to, though if he broke anything it would be added onto his debt.

 

Hakuryuu told him that if he had any questions regarding his chores, or the manor, or even Hakuryuu himself he was free to ask them. The way he said it made frost spin in his eyes and something dangerous linger in his tone, but Judal had always been prone to dangerous activities, so he asked;

 

“What are you?”

 

Hakuryuu smiled, and this time the mirth lit up his eyes like stars at twilight. It was bewitching, he felt like he could get lost in his gaze.

 

“I am what mortals call a faerie, a spirit of the forests and the earth. Do you know of faerie, Judal?”

 

“I know enough.”

 

Hakuryuu wore his ghost of a smile all the way back to the kitchens where he chopped the peaches Judal had brought in his _changshan_ into a succulent salad that served as their dinner. Judal wondered when he’d told the faerie his name, but then decided it didn’t matter, and ate his fill.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning Judal woke up to gentle tugging on his hair. When he cracked his eyes open he was greeted by several fae, no bigger than his palm with wings like dragonflies hovering above him, little fists in his hair. They chittered in a language he didn’t understand, but somehow their words appeared in his mind as if he did.

 

He got up and used the water basin and sponge that had appeared on his desk to bathe himself, dressing in the same clothes he’d worn the day before and braiding his hair as he walked down the manor halls. Hakuryuu was in the kitchen, the sleeves of his _yi_ rolled up to his shoulders so none of the flour from the dough he was kneading got on them.

 

“Make yourself something to eat, and then follow the little ones out into the garden.” Hakuryuu instructed, never taking his eyes off the dough. “You’ll collect all the silk that my worms have spun and bring it back here. Make as many trips as you need, but have it all back before the sun begins to set.”

 

“Why then?” Judal asked boldly, already looking around for something to cook. He found rice and a pot and decided porridge would do for food.

 

“I’ll need to measure you before I make you anything.” the faerie answered simply. “It will take time.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Of course. You can’t be expected to wear the same thing every day.”

 

Judal leaned against the table beside his host, not too close to get in his way but close enough to watch the stray locks of dark hair that fell defiantly in his face.

 

“Is it really repaying a debt if you’re using the silk for me though?”

 

“You’re full of questions today aren’t you, Judal?”

 

“Well you said I could ask you whatever I liked.”

 

“That I did.” Hakuryuu agreed. “It won’t just be for you. I will be using some of it for myself as well, so it serves us both. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

 

Judal laughed.

 

“For now!”

 

Judal ate his porridge and cleaned his dishes, the little fae fluttering around his head and playing with his hair as he did. One made herself comfortable atop his head, tangled up in the unruly locks, and he left her there while the others tugged at his bangs and led him out the door.

 

The garden was just as beautiful as the day before, all sprawling green and varying shades of flower petals and hanging fruits. Other little fae came fluttering alongside him as he walked, though he hadn’t seen any the day before, occasionally pausing to descend upon a piece of fruit and devour it. They offered him bites torn free with their tiny hands, but he always shook his head.

 

Hakuryuu had only said he was free to take from the kitchen, not the garden.

 

The silkworms dwelt in their own little alcove of flowering trees, and there the air was filled with the sweet smell of mulberries. Berries stained the arms and mouths of the little fae when they ate them and they licked their fingers and scrubbed at one another with flower petals to clean themselves off. Judal would have laughed at their antics, but he was busy staring in awe at the silkworm’s work.

 

Between the boughs of the trees glistening lengths of fresh silk had been spun, strand after strand, spinning webs across open air. It was impossible to see through it all, nor take a step into the circle of trees without being entangled, but it almost seemed worth it. Whatever sort of worms Hakuryuu cultivated, they made the kind Judal had seen back in his village seem plain and disinteresting. The silk these worms produced practically glowed with magic, like the web itself were a living thing.

 

“Where should I start?” he asked the fae, and they all giggled and chittered at him senselessly.

 

There was nowhere _to_ start, really, because if you pulled the silk from one branch you’d find yourself tangled in the silk from another. It wasn’t impossible, but it was certainly difficult, and without help carrying all the silk back to the manor would take hours and hours.

 

Still, Hakuryuu expected him to complete this task, so Judal clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms till they were warm.

 

“If there isn’t an easy way, I’ll just make one.” he said to himself, his palms lifted into the air. “He never said _how_ I had to collect the silk, you know.”

 

Magic tingled in Judal’s fingertips, whispering from between his lips as he breathed in and out. He sent out little breaths of cold, brushing a frosty breeze through the trees until the silk worms began to retreat, as if it were time to hibernate. With the worms successfully out of the way, he set to work on the silk.

 

Judal had no formal training with magic, so his control was sloppy and his technique was worse than pedestrian. His first attempt to wrench the silk free of a branch nearly tore the bough from the tree and the little fae chattered angrily at him for his mistake. They pinched him and kicked his cheeks with their little pointy feet.

 

“Ow--! Hey! Well then you help me do it!” he huffed at them.

 

They all shook their heads and crossed their arms, and Judal sighed.

 

“Yeah, I know, I know. Hakuryuu said _I_ should collect the silk…” he frowned, displeased with this snag in his plans.

 

One of the fae, the one who had been nestled into his hair, swooped down and tugged at his sleeve until he looked at her. She smiled and gestured with her hands, chirping along with her gestures.

 

“You’ll show me how?” Judal asked, suddenly intrigued. All at once the little fae were nodding excitedly. “Alright! Lead the way then!”

 

And they did. The fae with their glittering dragonfly wings fluttered about him and made gestures for him to follow. Sometimes they’d chitter at him in that language that he didn’t speak, yet somehow understood, and he’d learn words to go along with his actions. ( As any magician knows, words are imbued with power, and if you have the words then you will have the power as well. )

 

Soon enough he was pulling the silk free of the trees, folding it into heaps of shimmering strands that he laid neatly on the grass. One by one the trees were freed of their webs, lifting slightly when the weight of the silk was suddenly gone. Judal had forgotten a basket before coming into the garden, so he dropped down onto his knees and tucked the first bundle of silk into his lap. Like the day before, he held the edges of his _changshan_ and carried the silk as he had the peaches.

 

When he returned with a skirt full of silk, Hakuryuu only fixed him with a rather bemused look.

 

“Put the silk in the sewing room.” he instructed, pointing towards the hall. “In the basket by the window.”

 

Judal did as told, and then he went back out into the garden and collected the next bundle, and the next after that. This went on until the afternoon, and when Judal returned with the final bundle Hakuryuu was waiting.

 

“There’s tea in the kitchen, drink some and make yourself something to eat. After that, join me in the sewing room.”

 

“What will I be doing?”

 

“I’ll teach you to hand spin silk.”

 

So Judal went to the kitchen and drank the tea Hakuryuu had left for him, which tasted earthy and faintly sweet and warmed his entire chest. He made rice again and used the tea as broth, eating two bowls before he realized how hungry he had been.

 

He washed his dishes and his hands, then went to the sewing room where Hakuryuu was waiting.

 

The faerie was settled on his knees, a soft looking cushion beneath him and silk splayed out over his lap. His hands worked rhythmically, untangling and spinning the thin strands as if they were the strings of fate. Judal could only watch him for a moment, transfixed by his serene expression and continuous movements.

 

“You may sit.” Hakuryuu said, indicating a second cushion. Judal scrambled to do so, legs tucked under himself. “That bundle is for you. I expect it spun before you go to sleep tonight, so watch carefully what I do.”

 

“Why don’t you have the small ones do it?” Judal asked, ever curious.

 

“They get tangled up in the silk and think it’s far more fun to play in than to work with. If I asked them I’m sure they’d do their best, but I enjoy spinning it myself.”

 

Judal watched the faerie’s hands carefully, trying to mirror his actions as best he could. Hakuryuu was moving slower, so he could watch, and soon enough he’d picked up the basic motions he needed to replicate.

 

“Also,” Hakuryuu spoke up. “You needn’t wash your dishes so quickly. Many of my smaller brethren enjoy picking at the remnants of meals.”

 

“Don’t they eat from the garden?”

 

“They do, but it’s only polite to leave them some of what we have, especially if they do us favors.”

 

Judal wondered if the little fae had told Hakuryuu about teaching him magic, or that he had any at all. If they had, his host made no mention of it and neither did Judal.

 

Naturally, Hakuryuu was done spinning his silk before he was, and he finished a second bundle before Judal had finished his first. He left him in the sewing room alone to complete his task, and afterwards Judal compared his one spun bundle to the faerie’s two. His was messier and less skillfully done, but he had a sense of accomplishment that he had finished at all, and that made him proud.

 

Before going to bed he stopped in the kitchen, cooking rice and pouring the last of the tea over it. He left it on the counter for the little fae to pick at through the night and retreated to his room, tumbling into bed and sleeping a dreamless sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Judal found the water basin on his desk again, and alongside it three new sets of clothes made of silk. How the silk had gone from freshly spun to perfectly tailored clothing in the space of a night, Judal wasn’t sure, but he was grateful nonetheless. ( Come to think of it, when had Hakuryuu measured him? He couldn’t recall. )

 

Being from a poor village with no remarkable goods to trade, Judal had never seen anyone wearing silk until Hakuryuu, let alone wore any himself. He spent at least a half hour in his room, spinning in his new garments and admiring how soft they felt against his skin. In the mirror mounted on his wall, he looked like a completely different person, and he smiled at himself.

 

There was a knock at his door and he hurried to open it, and found Hakuryuu waiting on the other side.

 

“Ah, they fit.” the faerie hummed, smiling lightly. “Good. Do you like them?”

 

“I do!” Judal laughed, spinning again. His long hair spun with him, twisting around him like a living serpent before falling against his back as he stilled. “They’re wonderful Hakuryuu, thank you!”

 

“I’m glad. Now come, let us eat before I set you to work again.”

 

Judal skipped along at the faerie’s heels, purposefully swaying his body so the silk spun around him. Every time Hakuryuu caught him at his antics he only smiled, and so Judal continued, wondering if he might pull a laugh from him some day.

 

The bowl from the night before was empty now, and Judal set about washing it after he put another pot of rice on the stove to boil. He caught his host frowning at him as he did, and he gave him a curious look.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Is rice all you ever eat?” Hakuryuu asked. “I was sure humans had more varied palettes than that.”

 

Judal considered this question a moment, then shrugged.

 

“They do, I think, but I’ve never been able to afford much food. Rice is about the only thing I know how to cook, and I can roast some meats and fish.”

 

“What do you like to eat?”

 

“Peaches, mostly.”

 

Hakuryuu sighed. He shooed Judal away from the stove, setting aside his pot of rice and reaching for one of the pans hanging on the wall.

 

“Since you started the rice we’ll use that, but I’ll make you a proper breakfast. Go into the garden and bring me what I tell you.”

 

“Isn’t cooking for me something that will add to my debt?” Judal asked curiously, sure that was why he had been told to cook for himself.

 

“It would, if you’d asked it of me, but I am offering instead. I can’t possibly have you living off of rice alone with my garden as bountiful as it is.”

 

He gave Judal a list of fruits and flowers to collect, telling him that the little ones would guide him again, but he was expected to remember them for next time. Judal scurried out to the garden, following his guides and doing his best to remember the places he was collecting things.

 

When he returned Hakuryuu made them a wonderful breakfast that they shared at the table. He had cooked eggs and vegetables together and set them over the rice, and poured over it a light sauce that soaked into the rice. The fruit was chopped up and tossed with honey and a little bit of salt, and Judal had to remind himself to leave a little for his small friends.

 

“Since I’ll be cooking for two from now on, I want you to do some harvesting for me today.” Hakuryuu told him as they ate. “I’ll also need you to check the traps to see if they’ve caught any game. You’re not squeamish are you?”

 

“I used to have to strangle chickens, so I’m fine.” Judal assured.

 

He forgot a basket again and didn’t realize it until he was already collecting vegetables from deep in the garden. Judal huffed at himself, but used his new silken garment as a makeshift carrier as he had the days previously, carting what he’d collected back to the manor one trip at a time.

 

It occurred to him that Hakuryuu never told him off for walking around with bare feet or tracking dirt into his home. For a moment it seemed odd, but then he remembered that the garden meant more to Hakuryuu than anything else. Dirt from the ground he loved was just as welcome in his home as strange young men he found eating his peaches, Judal supposed.

 

He brought a basket to collect from the traps, refusing to risk getting blood on his new clothes, but this proved to be the least of his worries. The “traps” were not the kind he knew, made of rope and wicker, but rather living things. Entire networks of vines and roots that snared birds from the sky and young rabbits from the ground, and if their direction towards the river meant anything, probably fish too.

 

They were responsive as well. As soon as he reached towards them, they lashed out as if he were prey, and several of the little fae went shrieking for cover behind his shoulders.

 

“I bet you don’t do that to Hakuryuu.” he huffed at the plant. A vine wiggled, as if to mock him.

 

Judal tapped a finger against his lips. If he tried to manipulate the plants he was sure they would react unfavorably, and if he tried to use magic to yank the carcasses free they’d probably get torn to bits. A little fae peeked his head over Judal’s shoulder and they exchanged a look.

 

“You guys up for teaching me a little more magic? I’ll let you have one of the fish we caught in exchange.”

 

Immediately the little ones began chirping in excitement, swarming up around him and nodding their heads. He grinned at them, and once more they began to gesture and chatter in that strange language, teaching him words and motions to manipulate the world around him.

 

It took all his concentration to get the vines to relinquish their grip on their kills, and one by one the carcasses began to fill up his basket. As he practiced, it got easier, and by the time he got to the fish he pulled the wriggling roots free with ease. He gave the second biggest trout to the little ones, watching in mild fascination as they descended on it in a carnivorous frenzy.

 

They all walked back to the manner together, the tiny fae licking blood from their hands and Judal with his basket of meats. That night, he helped Hakuryuu to skin and butcher all the animals, salting some and set others into a cool box to be eaten the next day. Judal went to bed with the largest fish in his belly and a sense of contentment that lulled him into another dreamless sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Days turned into weeks, or so Judal had to assume, for time moved rather strangely in the garden. Some days seemed to carry on far longer than others, and though he watched the sun rise and fall at times it felt as though no time were passing at all. He never mentioned it, since it was rather unimportant, and instead spent his days in the company of his host.

 

Hakuryuu ate with him and made conversation, offering Judal time to rest between difficult tasks and coming to watch him as he worked at others. More than once he caught Judal doing magic, but he never said anything about it, so Judal never stopped. The companionship was pleasant, and the garden was beautiful, and for the first time life was good.

 

At some point Hakuryuu found him in the garden freeing a bird’s nest from a web of silk while collecting worms who had strayed from their alcove, and offered him a peach.

 

“For all your hard work.” he told him, and Judal smiled cheekily.

 

“If I keep taking peaches, Hakuryuu, my debt won’t ever go away, will it?”

 

The faerie only smiled at him mysteriously as Judal sunk his teeth into the peach.

 

  

* * *

 

 

 

Some days were more relaxed than others. With no task given to him, he went wandering about the manor, his bare feet making not a sound on the wooden floors. Eventually his little guides would join him, chirping happily and spinning themselves into his hair.

 

He looked into rooms and found one full of sparkling gems worth more than everything in his village, all tangled up in thick roots that seemed to have grown from nowhere. In another room there was nothing but spools of silk and cotton and racks of drying cloth that had just been dyed. Another had books and another had tools, and in one Judal found shelves stacked with bones.

 

“You know, curiosity is a dangerous thing.” Hakuryuu noted from behind him.

 

Judal turned and looked at him. His arms were laden with bones, all bleached a pale white.

 

“You did say I could go into any room I liked.” he pointed out. “If you’d like to revoke that now might be the time.”

 

Hakuryuu shook his head, and Judal noted that his host never seemed annoyed or angered by his actions, only lightly amused.

 

“Aren’t you in the least bit concerned you’ll find things you don’t want to see?”

 

“Not really.”

 

Judal stepped aside and watched as Hakuryuu went into the room, beginning to lay the bones carefully out on an empty table. He followed him in, spinning on his heel and looking around at all the different skeletons strewn about. Some of them were animals, some of them were beasts he couldn’t name, and a great number seemed to be human, their skulls sitting neatly on the edges of their shelves.

 

“Is this what happens to people who come into your garden?” he asked curiously.

 

“You came into my garden, and you aren’t on these shelves.”

 

“Well not right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be, right?”

 

“I suppose that’s true.”

 

Hakuryuu finished laying out the bones and turned around to face Judal. He approached him, his eyes unreadable storms of snow and waves, and lifted a hand to trail one finger against his cheek. Judal tilted his head curiously, and the faerie’s nail scraped against his jaw.

 

“You do look as though you’d have lovely bones,” he said thoughtfully. “I almost expect they’d be pure white as soon as I pulled them from your body.”

 

“Am I _that_ pale?”

 

“I’ve met spirits of snow who would envy your complexion.”

 

For some reason, that brought a flush to Judal’s cheeks that colored them a soft pink. He tried to duck his head and hide it, but the faerie caught his chin and held him in place, watching as the color darkened his ivory skin.

 

“…No.” he said after a moment, releasing him.

 

“No?”

 

“No, this is not what happens to those who trespass in my garden. Only what becomes of the cadavers I find. There are many uses for bones and it is good to keep them in stock, one never knows when they’ll be useful.”

 

“Oh.” Judal replied somewhat lamely, the faerie’s touch lingering on his skin. “Why only the ones you find?”

 

“The garden more or less looks after itself, and since I look after it, it looks after me. If someone harms it, or enters intending to harm me, the garden will protect us both. When a mortal comes looking to pillage and take for themselves, the garden takes back.”

 

“That makes sense.”

 

He said that, but the moment he did, something occurred to him that made him frown.

 

“If that’s the case, then why didn’t the garden take from me?”

 

Hakuryuu paused, his fingers resting on one of the bones, and looked over his shoulder at Judal. He offered him a faint smile.

 

“The garden likes you.” he said simply. “As do I.”

 

Warmth filled Judal’s cheeks again, and this time he was permitted to bow his head and try to hide the color.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Judal’s magic improved with every passing day, his tasks providing constant practice for his arcane talents. He had begun to scour the manor for books about magic after finding one tucked onto the shelf in his room, and he found tens of them, some older than he was. As soon as his chores were done he’d pick up whichever one he’d been reading last and devour it, mouthing along with the words and following the lines with his fingers.

 

Sometimes Hakuryuu would pass through whatever room he was curled up in and pause long enough to watch him as he read. He’d reach over and point to certain things or correct a word he mouthed by speaking it aloud, and Judal would always grin at him happily and repeat it back.

 

By now, the debt of the peaches he had plucked from the garden was long since been paid. He had been working in Hakuryuu’s manor for months, perhaps even years, it was difficult to tell within the garden. Another mortal may have spoken up about this, pointed out to the faerie that the debt had been paid and inquire if they were allowed to leave.

 

Judal woke every morning and dressed in his silk clothes, now owning more than twelve different sets to mix and match at his discretion. He would scamper through the halls and greet Hakuryuu in the kitchen, or surprise him by taking a turn cooking breakfast, even if it wasn’t as good. After that Hakuryuu would ask him to complete a task or two and Judal would happily go about doing so, content with the work he was set.

 

Most days now, he didn’t even work alone. Rather than send him off to do things by himself Hakuryuu would collect a basket and walk with him out into the garden, listening to him talk and the chatter of the tiny fae. He would teach Judal about the garden, the flowers and the fruits, the meaning of the twisted roots and how to listen to the trees.

 

It was true his debt was paid, but Judal had no desire to leave the faerie’s home, or his garden, and Hakuryuu seemed to have no intention of forcing him out.

 

One evening they sat together in a quiet room with tall windows covering an entire wall, casting the rays of the setting sun on them. Hakuryuu was writing on a long piece of parchment, pausing every so often to dip his brush into a bowl of rabbit’s blood. ( Judal knew it was rabbit’s blood because he had helped to collect it. )

 

Judal sat on the floor, a pile of bones by one knee and two different books splayed out on the low table in front of him. He mouthed along with what he read, twirling a thin carving blade between his fingers as he did. A bone sat beside the books, already half engraved.

 

Hakuryuu paused in his writing, watching Judal pick up the bone and begin to carve again, carefully replicating the symbols in the books. He waited until he was finished, tracing his features with his eyes and observing how his crimson irises reflected the light of the setting sun.

 

“May I ask you something?” he inquired.

 

Judal looked up, blinking at him in surprise.

 

“Of course, ask anything.”

 

Hakuryuu set his brush on top of the bowl of blood and laid his parchment out on the desk beside him. He rose, crossing the distance between them and settling beside Judal at the low table.

 

“You’re very intelligent,” the faerie noted. “And you have been since you came here. You were wise enough to do only as I gave you permission and take only what I freely offered. Yet, you took my peaches when all you had to do was ask for them. Why?”

 

Judal blinked at him again. Hakuryuu stared into the ruby depths of his eyes, letting himself sink below the surface of a crimson lake and drown in the feeling of his gaze.

 

“Would you have really given me any if I asked?”

 

“Of course. My garden is plentiful, I couldn’t possibly eat all it has to offer on my own. If you had asked, the garden would have given you fruit freely.”

 

Hakuryuu gave his companion a bemused look, the hint of a smile touching his mouth.

 

“But you _know_ that, Judal. I’m sure you always have.”

 

He expected for Judal to smile or laugh, as he usually did, but instead his expression fell slightly and he set his carving knife aside. Hakuryuu watched as he pushed the books and the bone away from himself and rested his elbows on the table instead, looking into the distance and not at the faerie.

 

“You know,” he said after a moment’s pause. “I was born with red eyes. I’m not sure if either of my parents had them, because I never knew them, but when I was really little I used to think they were very pretty. I felt lucky to have them.”

 

“Red is the color of good fortune.” Hakuryuu pointed out. “You _are_ lucky to have such beautiful eyes.”

 

The ghost of a smile crossed over Judal’s lips, and it didn’t suit him. Expressions of sadness were not meant to be on his face and Hakuryuu was fraught with the urge to wipe it away.

 

“Well, the adults in the village hated them, and so their kids hated them too. When I got older, I figured out I had magic, and that just made it worse. I was the village orphan who had scary eyes and weird powers, so you can imagine how well liked I was.”

 

Judal said it nonchalantly, but all Hakuryuu could think about were people being cruel to the young man beside him. Hakuryuu knew cruelty, he knew it all too well, and to think that Judal had ever suffered lit a flame of pure rage in his chest. What he wouldn’t give for those villagers to come stumbling into his garden and see how it reacted to those who hurt someone it loved.

 

“I just got tired of it after a while. Didn’t seem to be much point in trying so hard since nothing was changing.” Judal went on. “And the villagers were always talking about the garden and the monster living in it, so I kind of figured… If I’m a monster, and whoever lives in the garden is a monster, then maybe we have something in common.”

 

He turned his head and smiled at Hakuryuu, who was beautiful and terrible, and for a moment the faerie wasn’t sure what to say.

 

They sat there amidst books and bones and the setting sun, their bellies full of meats and fruits from the garden, their tea made from the leaves and petals of flowers Hakuryuu grew with care. Judal had known that he could die for his curious whim, and it hadn’t mattered to him in the least. He had wanted to know what kind of monster lurked among the trees, if only to catch a glimpse of someone who knew the same kind of lonely existence he did.

 

Except, they weren’t lonely anymore. Judal had made friends with the tiny fae and the creatures that lived within the garden, and he had enamored the faerie at the center of it all. Hakuryuu, who had lived only with his little helpers for company, now found himself constantly in search of the companionship of the magician who lived in his home. And the garden, the garden loved them both.

 

Hakuryuu closed he distance between them and pressed his mouth to Judal’s, holding his cheek in his palm so he could cradle his head. Judal leaned into him, returning the kiss and lifting one hand to seek out the one not on his cheek. Their fingers laced together, gripping gently.

 

Somewhere behind them, the sun set below the trees. A breeze brushed through the garden, and the trees seemed to shiver with delight.

 

  

* * *

 

 

 

In winter the garden slept beneath a blanket of pure white snow, its branches and vines bare of leaves, its flowers gone and its rivers and streams iced over. Game was still plentiful, and there were hardy plants that flourished in the cold to feed them, for the garden would never forsake the lovers who lived at its heart.

 

The manor was always warm, but sometimes Hakuryuu would shift his magic just enough to let a little bit of the cold in so he and Judal had an excuse to curl up beneath thick blankets together. They lay in a room whose floor was covered in cushions, nestled together beneath piles of comforters, the sky outside dark and flecked with snow and stars.

 

Whatever work they had been doing lay abandoned in favor of wandering hands and smiling mouths, which gave way to quiet laughter and tangled limbs. Hakuryuu held Judal and kissed his lips, pausing to point out the windows and show him the stars as they winked to life in the sky.

 

“You know I’ve been thinking,” Judal said suddenly, drawing Hakuryuu’s attention from the sky. “When I first came here you always talked about me working off my debt, but you never mentioned letting me leave.”

 

Hakuryuu hummed, trailing his fingers down his spine so that he laughed and squirmed closer.

 

“That implies that I ever intended to let you go.”

 

Judal laughed, tucking himself against Hakuryuu’s side and resting his cheek against his shoulder. His long hair fanned behind him, free of its braid and making obsidian waves across the pillow covered floor.

 

“So you always meant to take my pretty white bones?” Judal teased. “Put me up on one of your shelves so you could look at me whenever you liked?”

 

It was Hakuryuu’s turn to laugh, which turned into both of their laughter, caught between their mouths as they stole fleeting kisses just for the sake of doing so. Judal wound his arms around his lover’s neck, playing with his soft hair by threading it through his nimble fingers. He’d grown better than even Hakuryuu at spinning silk by hand, and it showed.

 

“I wasn’t sure _what_ I would do with you, but no, you were never meant to leave.”

 

Judal’s face scrunched up into the confused frown Hakuryuu took great pleasure in kissing from his face most days, but now he replied to it only with a mysterious smile.

 

“Come now, my love, you’re smarter than that.” he coaxed gently, easing his lover closer with an arm around his waist. “Think now… Think about what I am, about the stories they tell about my kind.”

 

Judal pondered this, allowing himself to be pulled closer to his love as he thought. Hakuryuu’s mouth descended on his neck, feathering light kisses along whatever pale skin he could reach, and Judal tilted his head back invitingly. His mind wandered to faeries and the stories he used to hear, the tales of the garden and the creature within it.

 

A memory blossomed in his mind, of something he’d heard, or read, too long ago for him to recall the specifics. It had been about faeries, and their fruit, and how if any mortal partook of it they would be forever bound to the realm of fae. They would be unable to leave, unable to eat or drink anything but the faerie food, and forever trapped from other mortal beings.

 

Judal blinked, and then he laughed, the noise bubbling up from his chest and escaping from his open mouth. Hakuryuu smiled against his throat, tasting his laughter through his skin and relishing the sweetness of it.

 

“So it wouldn’t have mattered if I wanted to leave!” Judal giggled, tangling his hands in Hakuryuu’s hair. “The moment I took a bite of that peach, I was yours forever, no matter what!”

 

“That’s right.”

 

The faerie eased his lover over onto his back, settling over him so their eyes were locked and their bodies pressed together. Judal’s legs fell open easily to accommodate Hakuryuu between them, one ankle hooking around his thigh, as if he needed to prompt his lover to stay in place.

 

“And you’ve eaten from my garden ever since,” Hakuryuu hummed. “Every morsel that has passed your lips has been of my kind. If a peach bound you to me forever, then with every bite you’ve so willingly taken you’ve bound yourself to me again and again, for tens of eternities.”

 

“You say that as though I mind.”

 

Judal smiled, guiding his lover down until their lips pressed together. They kissed languidly, the warmth of their blanket cocoon making them lazy and comfortable, but the topic at hand making them passionate. When they parted, he was still smiling, his crimson eyes sparkling with the mischievous kind of joy Hakuryuu had come to love.

 

“I’ve found I prefer the taste of forbidden fruit,” Judal said. “It’s far, far sweeter.”


End file.
